A/N: Hello, readers. First off, I want to apologize for this update taking so long. Life has kept me terribly busy lately and I have very little free time to write these days. Second, I wish to thank all those that have left awesome reviews last chapter and I hope you enjoy Rumpel and Belle's big day. Trust me, I'd like this to happen on the show just as much as you guys.
Rumpelstiltskin glared down into the empty tub at his feet, the whorl in the wood hypnotizing him briefly with its spider-web cracks and elliptical spirals. The last time he bathed properly was before this sensitivity issue. It had taken him until the moment he was standing at the tub's edge with his hand outstretched to realize he was a little afraid of the results of taking a warm bath with senstivity.
His fingers wiggled in the air, debating whether to magically conjure water. Should he or should he not? Normally, he would find the matter too troubling and choose not to deal with it, walk away...
...But this was his wedding day. He needed to look and smell his best for Belle. She deserved no less from the man she was set to marry. They were to be wed at sunset, following which would come the bedding. Oh, the bedding-it made Rumpel shiver with delight and apprehension just by thinking about it.
Either way, he needed to get in that tub. Not even cats would put up as much of a fight. Besides, it was only bathwater, completely harmless. It wouldn't kill him.
Magic hummed through his veins, being summoned to the very tips of his fingers. Without hesitation, fresh water swirled over the wood, curdles of steam rising to give sign of its scalding temperature. The room filled with moist vapor, the dampness clinging to Rumpel's scaly skin. He counted every drop that rolled from his neck or his forehead, his feet shuffling all the while toward the lip of the tub.
A vial of rose oil tipped over the tub, coating the surface of the water with frothy bubbles and permeating a floral scent. Only the Dark One could smell like roses on his wedding day and still be feared throughout the land.
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the door was firmly closed. Not a single sliver to allow in the light from the hallway, though it still seeped underneath the door. Then he slowly peeled his vest from his body, followed by the fine silk shirt underneath it. The vapor was humid enough to chase away the castle's draftiness, at taking his snake-eyes away from the churning waters that waited for him, Rumpel undid his laces and shimmied out of his leather pants. Gods, if Belle ever witnessed his hips wiggle that way...
Gone were the undergarments, every piece of cloth shed until he stood bare and exposed to the world, scathingly eyeing the tub as he would a worthy opponent.
One foot lifted from the clammy floor and hovered over the rippling water. He sucked in a deep breath and dipped his toe in. Hissing, he wrenched it back. That water was much too hot yet. The way his toe tingled from that tiniest contact, it could have been dipped in acid. He paced the floor restlessly, excrutiatingly aware of his nudity.
What was he afraid of, really? That his brain would fry from sensory overload? Belle accomplished that already just by breathing. He should plunge in head-first and get it over with, sort of like diving into a frozen lake. It would sting the first few seconds, but the body naturally adjusted. And what if Belle decided to visit him at this moment, walk in while he was pacing here without a stitch on his body?
Better to take that bath and be done with it.
Rumpel paused before the lip of the tub again. Some of the bubbles had popped and cleared, the froth thinning. His fragmented reflection danced across the water. Once more he raised his foot over the edge, allowing it to descend with the same snail-like slowness as the first time around.
Carefully...gently...quickly, now before he changed his mind-
His foot sank into the depths of the tub, into the core of the heat.
"Aiiyeee," Rumpel screeched on the top of his lungs. Reflexively, his leg flew back out of the water, but he lost his balance and pitched forward. His arms flapped in the air, unable to prevent the shock he knew was coming.
The water raced up to meet him and he tumbled head-first into the tub. The heat swarmed his body, a cocoon of fire. The bubbles invaded his eyes and he screamed underwater. Boiling liquid filled his mouth and he could safely say that rose oil did not taste as favorable as it sounded. At one point, his legs became ice-cold and he realized they were sticking up in the air, his body diving to the bottom of the tub instead of the surface.
Finally, he managed to right himself long enough for his head to break through the water. His nerves trembled from being startled too harshly and too hastily. Dog-paddling to the edge of the tub, he clung to it and gulped in soothing breaths of air. Moans fell from his mouth, pitiful mewing that betrayed his vulnerability.
The sound of footsteps bounded through the hall and he barely had a moment to register the source before the door flew wide open.
"What-oh," Belle cried, bursting into the room, a flurry of color. Catching sight of her husband-to-be in all his glory in the middle of the tub, she blushed fiercely and whirled around to give him privacy. From the tub, he watched the way her shoulders quivered slightly and he longed to rub the worry away. "I'm sorry. I should have knocked. You screamed and I thought...something might have happened."
Rumpel eased back from the edge of the tub. The splash of the water alerted Belle to his movements, her head tilting ever so slightly to peek over her shoulder. The bathwater was not as cruel to his skin as a moment ago-once his body adjusted, it felt comforting. The bubbles were nearly gone, though. He swept the remaining white clouds around his body, shielding Belle's view of what lay beneath.
"I was just...drawing a bath," he replied. Obviously, he mentally berated himself.
Belle rubbed her hands over arms, the vapor fading and exposing her to the drafts of the castle. She was becoming more confident, inching her body around in a tight circle. Soon she would be face-to-face with him, as casually as if they were sharing a meal at the table.
Rumpel pushed more of the bubbles over his chest.
"Most people don't scream when they bathe," she teased. That promise of a smile on her lips provoked his senses. He forced himself to focus on the water ebbing over his thighs and caressing his waist. Only, his imagination ran away and he began to fantasize that it was Belle's fingers, not the water, doing the work. Crawling over his stomach, dipping under his leg, slithering in and out and around, everywhere.
Now she was half-turned and the bubbles were few and far between. One popped in front of his chest, one less to hide his body.
"Most people you know aren't suffering from oversensitivity," he countered. He wondered if cats and babies yowled as loudly as he had upon landing in bathwater. "I fell in," he added. Belle's lips puckered, forming a small O. Her dark hair cascaded in front of her face as her head bent.
"May I turn around? Or would you prefer I...leave?"
Rumpel settled back against the wall of the tub, sinking into the water until it reached his neck. His eyes darted to the pile of clothes left in a puddle on the floor and Belle spotted them at the same time. It brought a fresh layer of pink to her cheeks.
"Monster that I am, I'm afraid I'm too greedy to ask you to leave, Belle. I'll never ask, but if you want to, you can. As for turning around, I seem to have no power over you."
Belle took a minute to absorb his words. Then she wiped her palms on her skirts and finished turning in her circle. Those shining blue jewels lingered on his face before inevitably drifting lower, glimpsing beyond the veil of bubbles and water. They traveled back up to his face, her expression holding little surprise or worry. He let her look. The same was bound to happen tonight, anyway.
"You're not a monster," Belle insisted wearily. She drew closer to the tub and hiked her chin high in the air. "Princesses don't marry monsters."
Rumpel opened his mouth to argue that, by that claim, she should not be marrying him. After all, he was the monster of all monsters in this land. However, he was stunned into silence when Belle strode around the tub and knelt behind him. He stiffened and leaned away from the edge, but her hands softly fell upon his shoulders.
"You work yourself too hard, Rumpel. There are so many knots in your back," she told him. Her fingers lightly brushed over a particularly twisted knot near his neck and he winced as she nudged it back and forth. At the same time, he craned his neck to expose his throat, willing her to do whatever she pleased. "If you want, I can try to rub it out. You'll feel loads better without the strain."
He found himself nodding even before he thought it through entirely. For too long his muscles ached without any chance of relief. He was well aware of the countless rigid knots that had formed underneath his skin, but he soon learned to live with them, simply another aspect of his deformed figure. What woman would ever consider rubbing out the kinks in the Dark One's bare body?
Belle would.
She encouraged his head to tilt back over the edge of the tub as she went to work on his shoulders first. His head was close to her chest, close enough that he could sense when she breathed in and out. Tenderly her fingers stroked his skin, coaxing the swollen muscle to release its tension. Rumpel's eyelids swiftly closed, his mind and body relaxing under the power of Belle's touch.
"You're moaning," she giggled into his ear. His breathing quickened as her fingers moved to the back of his neck, rubbing upwards into his scalp and then dancing their way downward again. He was limp in the tub and completely yielding to her will.
"This...feels...good," he sighed.
Belle's breath tickled his cheek, her hands delved beneath the rim of the tub to massage his tired back. He flexed the muscles of his arms and arched his back to give her access. Belle didn't stop at the waterline, as he assumed she would. Her fingers kept on going, sinking into the warm water, threading across his spine. Up, down, back up only to travel down again, further than before.
"Oh, oh...ahhh!"
White sparks of light exploded in Rumpel's head. Belle carried his soul to euphoric heights he never had the strength to reach before. She was the master of deep-tissue massages. Her fingers wove magically over his shoulders, curving over his shoulder blades, tracing the length of his spine, taunting his chest, splaying over his stomach...She only hesitated in exploring lower. Perhaps it was because he was already shaking with pleasure in her arms and that sort of bravery would be his ultimate undoing.
Her hands retreated to the surface, patting his shoulder only once.
"Feel better?" He turned his head weakly to stare up into her beautiful face.
"Oh, yes. Loads better," he assured her. In fact, he never felt more at ease throughout these past three centuries. He may be the all-powerful Dark One with an arsenal of spells and potions at his disposal, but Belle harnessed a natural blend of magic that could never be replicated from a spellbook. He collapsed in her embrace, her lips teasing his jaw. "Thank you, Belle."
She shrugged; he heard the shift of fabric.
"Well, you and I are going to come together tonight, anyway," she reasoned. "This might be considered our warm-up session." He smirked at her dark humor. Oh, his brave girl.
"Belle, if you're only intending to do this to relieve me of my sensitivity curse...You don't have to sacrifice your virtue in my name. If you're not ready, we can wait. There'll be plenty of time-" His words trailed off as her lips pressed to his cheek.
"I am ready. You're the only man I want, Rumpel," she said vehemently. She had no idea how happy he was to hear it. If it were not for their apparent true love, he would assume there were handsome princes out there worthy of her love. It constantly blind-sided him to understand she chose him over every other reasonable man in this land. "And is it such a crime if I hope to save you? You saved me the day I fell from that ladder-you were there to catch me. You saved my kingdom from the Ogre War. You saved me from an arranged marriage that I never cared for, one that would have left me chained to the ground, lonely, and unhappy for the rest of my life. It's my turn to save you."
He listened to Belle rise from her knees, her hand leaving his shoulder. It instantly felt ice-cold where her hand had been and he missed her touch dearly. She made a little cough and he paused to wonder why she hadn't moved beyond rising to her feet.
"Rumpel...the bubbles are gone."
He glanced down in alarm. She was right; the froth had dissipated and there were no bubbles to hide the portion of his body that lurked beneath the water. He panicked. Using his magic, he made one of the extra vials on the shelf fly into his hand and he poured the entire thing over the water until it was nearly overflowing with bubbles.
Belle laughed and took her time in departing from the room. When she was gone, Rumpel's head bent to rest on the edge of the tub, the now-lukewarm water vastly unappealing to him. That woman will be the death of me yet.
...
Their wedding was to be a small, quiet one. Not that they had much choice in the matter. No one in the Enchanted Forest would want to attend the Dark One's wedding, any more than they would be willing to attend Regina's, should she have one. But whereas Regina would demand and threaten the good citizens to show up for her big day, Rumpelstiltskin did not care either way. Theoretically, he could pull in all those owed favors for the sake of having wedding guests, but that was a waste of favors and he didn't particularly want them crowding his castle, anyway. He cringed just thinking about how much the royals squawked all the time-it'd be like listening to ten thousand crows cawing at the exact same time. Or ten thousand fingernails grinding on a piece of slate.
The only guest he ever regretted not having, so to speak, was Belle's father. It wasn't because he was fond of the man or that he harbored the desire to impress the father of his bride-to-be. That wouldn't happen even in his sweetest dreams. The reason he regretted it was because it hurt Belle dearly not to have her father present for one of the most meaningful days of her life.
After that scene with the bath, Rumpel found Belle among the roses in the gardens, trying to write a letter to her father in hopes of explaining the news. Several pieces of parchment already scattered the ground at her feet, many of the lines crossed out and illegibly blotted by the ink. She had been quietly weeping when he finally took the quill and parchment from her hands and allowed her to fall into his arms for comfort. As he rubbed her back, he asked her if she wanted to have her father there for her wedding. If-by some miracle-her father agreed to come, Rumpel would endure it for Belle's sake. But Belle merely shook her head, pressing her tear-soaked cheek deeper into his chest.
"Yes, of course I want my father with me on my wedding day," she admitted, pointing her chin to the ruined letters wavering in the wind. Rumpel nodded and poised his fingers to snap, mentally recalling the exquisite details of Belle's castle, but her hand captured his, urging him to stop. "But...I'm afraid..."
That revelation startled Rumpel. Ever since the night he had taken Belle to his castle, he had never once known her to be afraid of anything, least of all him. Never did she complain about the demanding chores, never did she cower in her cell from his shadow, never did she treat him with anything but consideration and kindness. Now, his heart melted to watch his fearless beauty be the one to tremble uncontrollably, that delicate pink lip caught between her teeth.
"Sweetheart," he crooned. Two of his fingers tipped her chin upwards so that she stared up into his eyes. "What do you have to be afraid about?" Belle's smile was fragile and disheartened, falling away as easily as it rose.
"I'm afraid...my father will never understand." She sniffled and set her sights on the fluttering pages again. "That's why I was writing the letter. Not to invite him to the wedding, really, but to explain why it is happening in the first place. I wanted to tell him that I found my happiness."
In the end, Belle gathered the inky papers and decided to let the matter be. It was the only sadness she ever expressed in anticipation of their wedding, but it was seared into Rumpel's mind, nonetheless. Belle had spoken the truth: someone like King Maurice would never be able to understand how his royal daughter, who should have married a well-off, highly-respected man like Gaston, could possibly wish to marry the most fearsome beast of the Enchanted Forest. In Maurice's world, that was equal to saying two plus two equalled five or claiming one could paint the sky red. It was unnatural and unimaginable.
The front hall had been cleared of all furniture in preparation for the wedding. The stone floors had been swept free of dust, the carpets aired out, fresh flowers had been set in vases around the castle, the curtains drawn aside to let in the glow of the sun. The mirrors had been covered with sheets so Regina would not be able to spy. Rumpelstiltskin wiped the sweat from his brow. He didn't know how Belle succeeded in running up and down the stairs all day, but he approved of her stamina.
Everything was ready. The only thing left to do was wait for sunset, when their wedding was due to take place. Of course, the bride was also noticeably absent.
Rumpel paced around the library, flexing his fingers until his knuckles cracked, and staring out the window every few minutes or so. Despite the view of the mountainside, the road remained eerily empty. Belle had gone to the town market for her wedding dress, insisting that Rumpel was not allowed to magically conjure it because it was bad luck for the groom to lay eyes on the bride before the wedding. She told him she would be back for afternoon tea. Granted, that was only two minutes ago, but still...a lot could happen in two minutes.
Rumpel's legs grew tired and he dropped onto his stool in front of his spinning wheel. Weakly, he brought his hand up to the arch of the wheel and rotated it. The ancient creak echoed in his ears. He had not spun since the day Belle kissed him that first time-he had no desire to forget any amount of time spent in her company.
He closed his eyes and sat excrutiatingly still on that stool for a time, remembering their enchanting dance in the ballroom. He recalled the way she felt in his arms, so lively and warm, their bodies drifting in synchronization.
Somewhere deep in the Dark Castle, there came a resounding knock. Someone was at the front door. Had he locked the door, barring Belle from entrance? He didn't remember doing so, but it had been his habit of defense for years. Or were Belle's hands too full with her bought goods to open the door?
Oh, the poor dear. He leaped to his feet and raced for the stairs, just as there was another knock. Fear not, Belle. I am coming! His foot tripped on the second stair, one of the rickety ones, and he went tumbling the rest of the way down. He groaned at the bottom, his head aching from the impact. Not to self: fix that damned step!
He ignored the discomfort to the best of his ability, scrambling to his feet and carrying on down the grand staircase to the front doors of the castle. He twisted the knob, flung open the door, spread his arms wide and-
"Oh, it's just you," he grumbled in disappointment. Turning his back, he dismissed his guests with a half-hearted wave of his hand and stalked back into his castle. His guests failed to take the hint, dogging at his heels and stinking bitterly of pine from the forest.
"Your etiquette for greeting guests is extraordinary, Rumpelstiltskin," Jefferson remarked sardonically. He proceeded to mockingly tip his hat and shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it on a nearby windowsill. Grace kept her cloak on. "Have you ever considered passing your wisdom to us lesser folk down the mountain?"
Rumpel made a low humph in the back of his throat, but refused to bite Jefferson's line. Let the hatter have his fun; this was his big day and it would not be spoiled because of a little sarcasm. Besides, his etiquette was perfectly acceptable most days. It just bothered him that Jefferson was obviously not Belle.
"Did I pick enough flowers for the wedding, Mr. 'Stiltskin?"
Grace politely offered the basket that was swinging from her arm, filled to the brim with wild flowers of all types and colors. Jefferson chuckled at Grace's title for Rumpelstiltskin. Rumpel knelt to Grace's level and humored her. He had no qualms about the child taking up space in his castle, so long as she didn't fall asleep and shout about squeezing him to death.
"How lovely," he complimented. Spying a bright blue one that would match Belle's eyes, he reached a hand into the basket to take it. He never noticed the thorn sprouting from its stem. It pricked his thumb and he shot up to full height. He stuck his thumb into his mouth and sucked on it. "Ow! You didn't think to strip the thorns?" He frantically sucked on his thumb and cringed at the taste of his own vile blood.
"We got them on the road, not the market," Jefferson retorted. Grace looked rather guilty about the thorn incident. Rumpel took a careful step away from her and her pretty little basket. She sidled closer to her father's side and tugged on his hand.
"Papa, you told me to stop sucking my thumb when I was younger. Why is he still doing it?" She stealthily glanced in Rumpel's direction. He quit licking his wound long enough to frown at the child. Jefferson smirked.
"Well, Grace, not many people realize that Rumpelstiltskin is an overgrown child at heart," he said, patting her back. Rumpel stuck his tongue out, which only fed the childish image Jefferson was feeding to his daughter. "You should be nicer to your wedding guests. It so happens I brought you a present."
Rumpel clapped his hands unenthusiastically. He hated surprises.
Jefferson dug around in his pocket and his eyes brightened an instant before he pulled out his fist. There was something enclosed inside it, something making muffled, squeaking noises. Rumpel shrank back suspiciously as Jefferson's hand blossomed.
What the...?
"Of all the marvelous items on sale in the marketplace, your choice of a wedding gift is...a cricket?" It was no ordinary cricket, but the acknowledgment of that fact didn't spark Rumpel's interest any. The cricket was clad in a tiny suit with a black umbrella hanging on his green arm. Rumpel poked its head. "You were a lot taller last time we met."
Jiminy scurried backwards on Jefferson's palm to escape Rumpel's poking. Grace clung to her father's hand, urging him to lower it so she could see the cricket.
"I found him hopping around on the road. I figured a cricket with a conscience would be the best candidate to marry you to your true love. Plus, I've tried hiring several ministers on my way here and each one either emptied his bladder on the floor or laughed me out of their sights. Apparently they thought I was telling a joke."
Rumpel cocked his head, contemplating it for a while.
"He'll do," he finally relented. Jefferson handed Jiminy off to Grace, who suggested to the cricket that they play hide-and-seek until the wedding started. Jiminy seemed eager to not spend any extra time with either Jefferson or Rumpel and took to Grace's kindness quickly. Rumpel called after her angrily. "Don't lose my cricket!"
Silence fell around Rumpel and Jefferson. The hatter made himself at home, perching on the railing of the stairs with ease and admiring the grandiose sights of the Dark Castle. I could live here was written all over his face, much to Rumpel's disgust.
"So...when do I get to meet the love of your life?" Jefferson flashed a bright smile. Rumpel opened his mouth to answer with a remark along the lines of: If I had my way, never. Unfortunately, the sound of the castle's doors opening prevented it from escaping his mouth.
Belle flew into the castle, a bundle of white silk rolled in her arms. She smiled happily at Rumpel and blushed when she realized they had company. A ladylike cursty followed her surprise. Jefferson's eyes were wider than that time during his first meeting with Regina.
"I believe introductions are in order," Jefferson hinted, aiming knives into Rumpel's head. Rumpel gritted his teeth and fleetingly thought about sticking out his tongue again, but he didn't want Jefferson to seem more appealing to his bride-to-be. It was with a tough swallow of his pride and undivided attention on Belle that he stretched his hand toward the hatter.
"Belle, this is-"
"The name's Jefferson," the hatter interrupted, boldly clasping Belle's hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss.
The gesture caught Belle off-guard and she appeared conflicted over how to react to Jefferson's lips on her hand. Rumpel shifted uncomfortably. Were the hatter's lips stuck to Belle's skin? He was taking too long! His frustration got the better of him and he kicked Jefferson's leg. Jefferson yelped, but at least he dropped Belle's hand.
"Pleasure to meet you," he finished.
Rumpel glared at the hatter, promising vengeance for that inappropriate intimacy. He settled his gaze on the ball of silk in Belle's hands and tented his fingers together. Curiously, he inched closer and pinched the fabric. Belle whipped it away.
"Ah, ah, ah!" She scolded, keeping the dress out of reach from her husband-to-be. He pouted. "You know the rule: the groom is not allowed to see the bride or her dress before the wedding. It's bad luck!" Rumpel stomped his foot on the ground as Belle removed her cloak and used it to shield her wedding dress.
"It's not very fair. You saw me this morning," he reminded her slyly. To his satisfaction, Belle gasped and fumbled uneasily with the dress. He attempted to use her moment of distress to snatch up the dress, but her reflexes were fast enough so that she flitted out of his reach once more. He scowled.
"You'll get your chance this evening," she promised and placed a peck on his cheek. She rushed up the stairs to get ready for the wedding. After her departure, Jefferson raised an eyebrow, though he was still half-bent and rubbing his leg.
"I take it she walked in on you in your wedding suit?" More like my birthday suit, Rumpel thought, his neck flaming up. It was a good thing he hadn't spent enough time with Jefferson for the hatter to recognize when the Dark One became embarrassed.
"Yes, let's go with that."
...
This was it. The big day, the big hour. The moment that would ultimately bind him and Belle in holy matrimony loomed closer with every passing second.
Rumpel stood at the doors of his castle, gazing out into the distance. The front doors had been opened wide to greet the approaching sunset, the incandescent golden rays blanketing the pale mountainside and landing swiftly at his dark feet. The sunset harbored no fear of the Dark Castle, illuminating every mile of marble and every stretch of stone until the castle appeared inviting instead of daunting. A good sign, considering this castle was to be Belle's true home and she the lady of the castle.
He closed his eyes as the sinking sunlight washed over his beastly face. It was not instinctual due to being blinded by the sunlight, as so often happened in the mornings now. He simply wanted to savor the sensation of the warm rays being absorbed by his skin. It was not harsh in temperature nor did it threaten to scald him with a sunburn. It did not force him to retreat into the farthest, darkest, coldest corners of his castle.
It was almost...gentle. Peaceful. Welcoming. As if the light forgave him his dark crimes and took him readily into its embrace in celebration of this big day. The darkness never forgave.
"Practicing your wedding vows? Or perhaps planning your honeymoon?" Jefferson's voice shattered Rumpel's serenity, eliciting a growl of contempt from his crude lips. He swiveled on his heel to see the hatter striding up what was to be the aisle. It wasn't a comforting overlaying image, that was for sure.
"You're expecting I'll make a mistake? Or become so emotional that my tears will prevent me from finishing what I started? Well, joke's on you: I'm ready as any reasonable man waiting to be married. In fact, why stall it? Let the show begin."
The sooner the wedding started, the faster he could usher Jefferson out of his castle. It was amusing to torture him with the idea of being his best man at first, but now the hatter was lounging in his chairs and eating all his food and talking to Belle while her husband-to-be was not allowed to see her before the wedding.
Jefferson held up his hands, feigning surrender. That goofy smile gave it away.
"Down, boy," he teased. Rumpel grunted disapprovingly. What was he, a dog? "If I were you, which thankfully I'm not, I wouldn't be so eager to 'get on with it'. The wedding will be the easy part. It's the bedding afterwards that will kill you. Here's to hoping you don't get cold feet."
Jefferson slipped a flask from his pocket and tipped it to his lips. No doubt it was Rumpel's wine sloshing around in there, now tunneling its way to Jefferson's stomach. He wondered if the hatter intended on getting drunk so he wouldn't have to be much of a witness to the Dark One's wedding.
Rumpel licked his lips, longing to ease the butterflies stampeding through his belly. But he turned his head from the battered deer-skin flask and silenced the desire to drink because, well, just look how it turned out the last time he was intoxicated. If he got drunk now, he may very well meet Belle halfway down the aisle, plant a sloppy kiss on her lips, and be convinced they were already married.
No, a drink was a terrible idea. In any case, he wished to remember every fleeting second of this night.
"Where's the cricket?"
Rumpel's snake-eyes swept the floor, searching for a little green fellow in a suit. By all means, Jefferson could do the honors. It wasn't like a true minister would waltz through the door and be willing to marry the Dark One to a royal princess. But with the way Jefferson was chugging on that flask, Rumpel decided it wouldn't be appropriate to have a drunken hatter marrying them. It'd be humiliating, maybe a wee bit humorous, but definitely not appropriate.
"You lost the cricket?" Jefferson's eyebrows shot to his hairline. Rumpel froze in place, his leg half-raised in the air while he examined the bottom of his boot. No cricket. Gods, what would he tell Belle? That they couldn't be married? That his drunken somewhat friend would take over?
Then he registered the grin sliding over Jefferson's lips.
"Relax," Jefferson reassured, clapping Rumpel on the shoulder. Rumpel glowered and gingerly plucked Jefferson's hand from his body. He never liked people touching him before and he hated it now. Belle was the exception, of course. "The cricket is upstairs with your bride-to-be, subtly making sure she's not marrying you against her will. It comes with the whole conscience reputation."
Rumpel whirled to face the winding grand staircase, imagining the cricket in one of the rooms on the second floor, interrogating Belle and probing for some sign of cruelty on his part. He muttered curses at the cricket's ignorance. He would never force Belle to marry him against her will!
But only Belle truly knew that. Everyone else in the Enchanted Forest saw a fearsome beast who stole the beautiful maiden from her family and did only-the-gods-knew-what behind the closed doors of his formidable castle.
A black and green dot bouced down the ivory stairs, its legs making a soft plip-plop, plip-plop, plip-plop. It hopped across the floor, very slowly since the distance must have been equal to a vast desert for one so small. The cricket was breathing heavily and had to use his miniscule black umbrella for support by the time he reached the end of the aisle.
"I'm here," Jiminy huffed, though he did not sound too enthusiastic of the fact. He wiped his brow on his sleeve. "Belle is coming as we speak. I asked her to give me a head-start."
Rumpel's shoulders slumped in relief. Belle passed the cricket's test; their marriage would not be interrupted. Not that Rumpel would stand for such an unnecessary obstacle. If the cricket came hopping down those stairs crying "so sorry, no can do," he'd win a one-way ticket out the window.
"Here comes Grace," Jefferson announced, voice thick with drink and emotion. He certainly seemed springier in step. "Oh, but you probably already knew that."
Rumpel kept his eyes glued to the scenery of the mountainside beyond the castle's threshold. He listened to the singular pattern of Grace's footsteps marching down the aisle, mixed with the wind of the petals drifting to the floor. How many of those petals did she insist on tossing? A hurricane of rose and lilac petals brewed behind him.
And then came the steady steps of his bride-to-be, making her way to the foyer of the castle. She was heading down the hallway of the second floor, she was passing his bedchambers which would belong to her tonight, she was nearing the staircase. The precise rhythm of her steps matched the pulsing of his heart.
He turned around, anticipating her arrival.
There was a flash of pure white and suddenly she was there, standing proudly at the top of the steps. The chestnut hair he admired was beautifully arranged in curls atop her head, though several loose spirals framed her rosy cheeks. Never had he seen a pair of eyes smile as brilliantly as those bottomless blue ones were doing now. The gown cinched her small waist and hugged her curves in all the right places, blossoming in luxurious layers to her feet. A thin veil-so delicate that it could have been crafted out of snowflakes-masked her lovely face.
She was a glorious sight to behold as she gracefully descended the stairs, the train of her skirts whispering as it spilled over each step. The rose and lilac petals were swept up by her dress as she walked, becoming one with the fabric. Step by step, she drew closer to him, a flicker of light amidst an ocean of darkness.
Jefferson whistled lowly, eyes boggling out of their sockets. Rumpel snapped out of his awed stupor long enough to slap him on the back of the head. That was his bride-to-be that Jefferson was mentally undressing.
"Somehow, I suspect that hurt you more than it hurt me," Jefferson stated. Rumpel wrinkled his nose as the stench of alcohol invaded it and he fought the urge to wave his hand to ease the sting from the slap. Belle might think he was waving at her.
Finally Belle reached his side and he gently accepted her hand, bringing it to his lips. The pleasurable feel of her velvety skin across his lips encouraged him to kiss her longer than was appropriate. At least she seemed to like it more than when Jefferson did it.
When his lips parted, a sigh escaped. This was bliss.
"You're not supposed to kiss the bride before the cricket says so," Jefferson taunted, pointing his flask at the tiny figure at their feet. A drop of alcohol rained on the cricket's head, almost drowning him. Rumpel hoped that the cricket wouldn't be the next one to get drunk as a result of Jefferson's foolishness.
"I kissed her hand, not her lips!" Belle laughed, immediately chasing away his annoyance. The sunset warmed her face, giving it a healthy glow. He dared to lift the veil and caress her cheek with the back of his hand. Ever so slightly, she tilted her head, allowing it to fall into his touch.
Gods, she was beautiful.
Belle glanced down at the cricket waiting to marry them. Her expression crumbled into one of adoration, her heart leaping into her eyes.
"I've never heard of a cricket performing the marriage ceremony before. Isn't he adorable?" Belle cooed. Rumpel and Jefferson exchanged uneasy stares. They had witnessed their fair share of oddities during their lifetimes; a talking cricket didn't even rank in the top ten.
"Oh, sure," Rumpel mumbled sarcastically. He cursed the Blue Fairy for the billionth time since the night he lost Bae. "You turn a grown man into a miniature animal and make him talk and women everywhere start to melt."
It wasn't fair how the cards were dealt in this world. It wasn't his fault he had to be recognized from the start as something dark and dangerous. The title of the Dark One didn't exactly scream hug me, I'm cute. The Blue Fairy wasn't as pure as everyone believed, either. She just happened to win the popular vote through sugary-sweet bribes. He could do that, too. Of course, if he popped up outside someone's house and offered up an innocent piece of cake, they might think it was infected with some poison or disease. And if he turned someone into a cricket, it'd be seen as an offense.
Jefferson snorted into his flask.
"You should try it sometime. I happen to think you'd make a great chipmunk," he offered. Grace giggled from where she stood behind Belle. Rumpel met Jiminy's beady black eyes and rolled his finger in a circular gesture, urging him to get on with it.
Jiminy cleared his throat to speak, though Rumpel suspected it was partly out of fear as well. It was barely a squeak, even in the matter of Rumpel's sharpened hearing.
"Hem-hem...uh...we are gathered here today to join together this..."
The cricket hesitated in calling Rumpelstiltskin a man, in which case Rumpel narrowed his otherwordly eyes, veiled with hidden threats. Many people in the Enchanted Forest proposed varying theories as to what Rumpelstiltskin truly was: from a man thirsty for power and dabbling in dark magic to devil-spawn complete with a forked tongue to a deformed crocodile who somehow learned to speak and lusted after newborn babies and innocent maidens alike.
That last one stunk of a not-so-fearsome pirate inconveniently missing a hand.
Jiminy sputtered nervously, hurrying to correct his mistake before evoking the wrath of the Dark One. Little did the cricket know that Rumpel would never chance harming the hopping fellow on this day. Belle would never forgive him.
"...join this Dark One and this woman in holy matrimony," Jiminy finished.
And so the ceremony commenced.
Jiminy praised the ideals of marriage and everlasting love while Rumpel remained enthralled by Belle, drinking in every detail until his chest felt tight and unable to accommodate the weight of his hammering heart. Belle returned his affections with an unwavering glance here and a tender squeeze of his hand there.
Jiminy tilted his head up at Rumpel and dutifully asked if he agreed to take Belle as his wife, to cherish throughout all the rest of his days, until in death they parted ways. Rumpel's attention never once faltered from Belle's shimmering blue eyes.
"I do," Rumpel declared, smiling rather sheepishly at his bride. He had yet to see if she would be so confident. He certainly felt better and more sure of his decision than the day he married Milah. That one was something of an arranged marriage.
This felt right.
"Me, too," Jefferson bellowed, rapidly succumbing to the effects of whatever impure fluid spilled from his flask. Grace shuffled her feet in embarrassment when Jefferson wouldn't quit winking at Belle. In the end, Rumpel had to remind the hatter that he was not the one marrying Belle.
Jiminy skated quickly over the mild dispute, turning to Belle in the same manner as he did Rumpel and kindly inquired whether she agreed to take Rumpelstiltskin as her eternal husband. To Rumpel's ears, the cricket placed emphasis on the agreement part, making it painfully clear that this was solely Belle's choice.
Belle barely blinked.
"I do," she promised in a heartbeat. Rumpel floated on clouds. There was the same determined note in her voice as the night she agreed to go with him forever in order to save her kingdom; there was no changing her mind.
He and Belle then performed the old ritual of sipping from the same goblet. Jefferson tried to take a sip, too. Rumpel had to pry Jefferson away with a hand shoving his face back, the goblet stretched beyond the hatter's reach. Jefferson claimed he was thirsty; Rumpel snapped that he didn't care if Jefferson wasted away in a piping hot desert, that his lips would never touch the rim of that goblet. Eventually the contents poured all over Jiminy.
After everyone settled down-with Rumpel's cheeks flushed more golden than the sinking sun, Jefferson with a refilled flask, and Jiminy using a strip of cloth to dry himself off courtesy of Belle's kindness-the binding moment of the wedding arrived. Bands of gold slipped over their knuckles. Then the words Rumpel had awaited anxiously: "you may kiss the bride."
He gulped. The butterfly storm in his stomach worsened. His fingers slipped over Belle's gentle hands, leading her into his embrace. She studied him expectantly, nodding ever so slightly to tell him everything would turn out alright. Please don't let me faint, he prayed to the higher powers that may or may not be listening. That'll be the one thing Jefferson remembers tomorrow morning.
Tenderly, he wrapped his arms around Belle's waist and leaned his head down, lightly catching her already parted lips in a chaste kiss. It was electric, it was sweet, and it was perfect in every imaginable way.
He realized then that he had never truly loved another, only Belle. The others-Milah and Cora-they were relationships built on longing and lust, never love in its purest form. Belle returned his kiss without question, her arms circling his neck and her body fitting against his like the piece of the puzzle he had searched so long for.
The swift magical change came over him then, threatening to suck away the darkness in his soul. The sensitivity remained, but he felt his muscles weaken and tremble, he felt his breathing become ragged with exertion, he pictured the lizard-esque quality of his skin melt into warm human flesh. Belle's moan verified as much, her hand trailing across his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut and chained himself to that dark power, refusing to relinuish his hold. The Dark One curse needed a host; he gave himself wholly to its need. He concentrated on the rippling golden hue of his skin, the unsettling amber orbs reflected in the mirror instead of emotional, weary brown ones. The dagger that was inscribed with his true name, the source of all his power. The addictive magic that coursed through his veins. It might have been a cowardly thing to do, sacrifice himself to the influence of the Dark One instead of changing for Belle on his wedding day, but this was the only way he'd ever see Bae again. The only way he could correct his wrongdoings in his son's name.
Belle's sigh told him it worked. He carefully opened his eyes, silently asking her that very question. She smiled sympathetically and kissed his cheek, whispering that he was alright. Belle did not seem to care whether he resembled the Dark One or a human man. She fell into his arms all the same.
Still, as he cradled his bride, he stretched a hand beyond her shoulder and examined it himself. Golden-grey and not the least bit human.
"You're free to go," Rumpel said, shooing his hand toward Jefferson and the cricket. Grace yawned and raced over to her swaying father, the excitement having worn her out. Jefferson's head spun left and right, first looking at Grace and then looking directly next to her, as if he were seeing double.
"I wish you both a long and happy life together," Jiminy said and immediately began hopping for the front doors. No doubt the cricket wanted to be halfway down the mountain before the night creatures emerged. Regina's carriage was enough of a danger during the night.
"I'm not feeling so well. Might not be a good idea for me to walk home," Jefferson mumbled. He peered down into his flask and scratched his head. "Where is home?" Grace looked frightened at the idea of spending a single night in the Dark Castle. Rumpel hung his head.
"Allow me to be the designated transporter," he muttered and waved his hand. A flume of purple smoke enveloped both Grace and Jefferson. When it cleared, there wasn't so much as a hair to prove they were there in the first place. Belle stared up at her new husband suspiciously.
"You did send them to their home, right?" Rumpel gaped down at her.
"Of course I did! What kind of man do you think I am, dearie? The woods at night is no place for a child," he reassured.
A drunken Jefferson, on the other hand, was fully capable of surviving the walk home through the woods. The hatter jumped through worlds and dealt with vampires, Jabberwocks, and pompous queens for a living, after all. Hell, since he would end up living after getting his head chopped off by Cora in a few months, a couple of bears should be no problem.
Belle opened her mouth to question about Jefferson-her intellectual mind never missed a thing-but Rumpel silenced it with a kiss to her jaw and a little nuzzling of her neck. Was that a purr that rose from his throat?
"Should we head upstairs?" Belle breathed into the shell of his ear as he orally massaged her neck. The thought of consummating their marriage, here and now, made Rumpel's knees weak. It excited him and terrified him at the same time.
"Eager, are we?" He grinned against her skin, gradually shifting when Belle smiled in return. In truth, he was more than a little nervous for the next stage of their promised love. What if he did something wrong? What if he did something Belle didn't like? What if his curse didn't break? What if-
Belle must have sensed his growing trepidation, for she clasped his hand in hers, weaving their fingers together.
"I trust you," she whispered, pressing another kiss to his cheek. It was warmer than the brightest rays of sunshine, more delicate than the gentlest spring rain. "I love you."
Those three words unraveled him completely. The words that neither Milah nor Cora ever spoke, yet Belle unleashed with all her heart. It drew the breath from his lungs, stole the strength from his limbs, made the blood roar through his ears until not a single brush of air could be detected in his castle.
"I love you, too," he bravely returned, the truth behind it ringing clearer than any bell in the entire forest. It was decided. Rumpelstiltskin lifted Belle into his arms, holding her close to his chest as he had the day she fell from the ladder, and carried her up the stairs, carried her all the way to their bedroom.
...
Let the wedding bells ring! I hope you all enjoyed that wedding scene and now I wish to send thanks to everyone who reviewed: Huntress4455, Guest45, thedoctorsgirl42, Guest, asalia, Grace5231973, Spinning Folly, Yakibaru, Just 2 Dream of You, AngelofDarkness1605, RaFire, cheesyteal'c, Guest, and SwanQueen4055. I'm glad everyone enjoyed that version of the B&B ballroom scene as well. I won't make any promises in how long it will take me to update the next chapter, but it should be the last one for this story. Thank you all for reading!